Beauty and the Beast
by thuychan
Summary: "When will you ever see me not as a monster, but as a man?"
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Hi everyone! I know I haven't finished my first fanfic yet, but this idea for a story popped inside my head so I thought I'd try writing it out. Comments and feedback will be greatly appreciated. Tootles and enjoy!

"Asami-sama, please!" gasped the old quivering man. His silk black kimono, once pristine, was soaked through with rain and smeared with mud. Never before had he ever bowed down to anyone let alone get down on his knees. But there he was, the great the leader of one of the fiercest Yakuza families in Japan, begging a man not yet half his age to spare his clan.

Normally there was no need to extinguish the entire clan, but Asami didn't care to use those that he had conquered. He was more the sort of man who didn't take prisoners, didn't take life after it's been handled by his hands. It didn't matter if the blood to be poured could cascade down to fill an ocean.

The red orange flames that blazoned up the surrounding buildings enclosing the small courtyard glimmered in Asami's smoldering golden eyes. He stared down at the beseeching man with a hard, seemingly unconcerned face as the rest of the house went up in sparks. It was raining, a rather hard summer shower, but that didn't deter the monstrous flames that sought to engulf what was left of the main house.

Asami's men were everywhere, detaining the rest of the family members and servants. Screams and shouts, cries of bewilderment and fear were barely heard over the licking fire and the old man's own insistent groveling. Irritated at his pitiful pleas, Asami lifted his hand and backlashed the old man. He crumbled to the ground, still.

Turning away from the sight, Asami raised his head upward to look into the storm clouds that had completely covered the once clear blue sky, heavy raindrops splattering down. He closed his eyes and soaked it all in, breathing in deeply: the smoke burning wood, the wet rain drops, the screams – ah, those delicious cries breaking out through all the other noises.

He then opened those eyes and directed them at the old man, the man whom was once so strong despite his age, whom was considered so great, who had built his clan from a handful of men into the name it is today, and whom Asami had crushed.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, something struck Asami's attention. It was like a needle glistening in the sun, or a sharp blade of grass. It was something that his mind zeroed in on without any conscious thought or without any reason why, but he saw it as clear as day, as clear as the reflection in a mirror, as clear as a bullet racing through the air.

He saw the boy; a mop of wild dirty blonde hair, the face that was pressed into the folds of his mother's shirt turned to see the guards grabbing her away, the tear tracks and dirt marring a face Asami knew to be lovely. He had a slight frame, innocent-looking, and large eyes that Asami couldn't look away from.

"Actually," whispered Asami's husky voice. It sounded like thunder, but it was nothing except the lightning. "I _am _willing to talk, Takaba-san."

…..

Takaba Kai couldn't stand to see his youngest daughter's face as he told her the news. He withstood it even less when she started sobbing hysterically. He ordered the maid to bring some honey milk tea, steaming hot, just the way his Aya liked it, and continued to try to soothe her to no avail.

Of course, no comfort could be given to her.

The boy was the youngest son in the family. His daughter's only son. The only one who still called him grandpa instead of grandfather or sir.

Despite the near decimation of his clan, Takaba Kai disproved of what he was to do. Rather, he felt guilty. It was essential to survive. To trade the life of one little boy for the sake of numerous others was the appropriate choice, the only choice really. But that didn't make handing Akihito over any easier.

to be contd.


	2. A Mother's Love

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Akihito laid crouched in a fetal position on the slightly charred tatami floor, his knees pressed tightly against his chest, his head curled downwards between his legs. The room had been the one he was staying in while visiting his grandfather's place, but now it was burnt to a crisp.

The fire had only been detained a few hours before, so the patterned sewn floor against the exposed side of his face still felt slightly damp on his cheek. It smelled too, of wet bamboo and charcoal. The rest of the things in the room were covered in soot, broken, or strewn across the room in disarray. But the physical haphazardness of the room was nothing compared to the whirling emotions inside of his mind.

Every single time he went to visit his grandfather, he felt very nervous. Although Akihito was born from a very prominent Yakuza family, he was born oblivious of their world, away from the main family. His mother, his grandfather's youngest daughter, the youngest out of six children, had no power or control despite being the head's child because there was no chance for her to take over the family. When she fell in love with Akihito's father, a scenic photographer that she had met during her college days, she begged her father to let them get married. Akihito heard there was a spiel of arguments from his grandfather's initial rejection of the idea, but then he relented and let them live on their own. After Akihito was born, his parents took him to the main house a few times a year for traditional ceremonies and such, but also mainly because his grandfather was so fond of him.

At the main house, all of Akihito's cousins, children of his mother's older siblings, were all already of marriageable age. The only ones close to Akihito's age were his cousins' children, Akihito's nephews and nieces. Two of his cousins were even older than he was. He never did quite fit in with them. He didn't fit in with anyone at the main house despite being on amiable terms with a few. They all lived in a different world.

A few days ago, his grandfather had called, and although his mother had refused to tell him what it was all about when he had asked, the frantic tone in her voice and her strange, erratic behavior had prompted him that something was terribly wrong. They came to stay at the main house shortly after. And the shortly after that, the fire happened.

But before the fire burst out, the first thing Akihito noticed that tilted the axis of his world off center, screams pierced the air, shouts and strong voices, a crash and a scurry of commotion that brought him out of sleep.

Akihito remembered that it was still dark outside when he woke up because of the noise. Dawn had not yet broken over the horizon. After the screams, a rush of heavy footsteps outside, the first bullet in the air that had frozen Akihito's veins, the orange flames came. The fire came so suddenly and so brightly contrasted against the still pitch-black sky that it stunned him.

He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but stare, transfixed in an oddly frightened way, at how the flames came up to swallow the building seen across his window.

And after that, Akihito couldn't remember much. His mother had burst inside of his room, and somehow his legs were moving, running with her until some men in black suits had caught them. She had screamed and kicked when they were separated from each other. He remembered one of the guards grabbed a hold of him by the scruff of his collar and then he was hauled over a massive shoulder. Some time went by, and then he remembered being handed back to his mother. The last of his memory was of the cold, of his clothes seeping wet, of his shivering body because of the rain.

And right now, waiting for his mother and grandfather and some other relatives in the next door who have been talking all night long, Akihito just wanted to go home.

…..

"Mother," Akihito whispered, touching lightly at the ends of her white silk kimono. It had the family's crest on it. He adorned one too, although his had no visible markings. It was just a deep royal blue kimono. "Mother, when will we get to go home?"

Hearing her son's question, Aya's face wilted. She yearned to cry out, to embrace him one last time. She willed herself, forced herself to control her face and fold it in a semblance of not completely breaking apart. She was dying inside. One way or another Asami was sealing her fate. Killing her this way was much more painful than if he would just thrust a blade through her heart. And the sad thing was that he had no idea who she was, no interest, an indifference to her pain.

Breathing in and out slowly, she said, "I don't know." Her knuckles white, her fingernails digging half-moon scars into her palms to keep herself from screaming.

Dissatisfied at the answer, he attempted to reach out to touch her kimono one more time, as if repeated his question through his action, but his mother evaded his touch.

The morning after the fire incident, Akihito had been ushered by some of the servants to bathe and dress in the kimono they had placed in his room. Afterwards he was lead to the spare tea room used for training. It was the only room not burnt. He sat down next to his mother. His father was nowhere to be seen.

Everyone was tense. They were all waiting for something. Something to happen. None of the children were present. Something was wrong. Akihito's ears buzzed.

Akihito noticed that a wall of the room was empty, the wall of the entrance. Whoever they were waiting for had yet to appear.

His eyes were beginning to droops after sitting stiffly for half an hour, and when his head began to sluggishly nod a few times, someone cleared their throat. Akihito looked up to see his grandfather and gasped.

Takaba Kai was sporting a gash across his face and a heavily bruised cheek. The barely-there wisps of white hair on his face drooped like a wilted plant, so thin and delicate they seemed ready to fall from his head at the slightest of winds.

He didn't know what to say to his grandpa, not that anyone was saying anything at all. Instead, everyone in the room looked like they'd rather be somewhere else, as if they avoided looking at grandfather's face, but more especially, they avoided Akihito's gaze. Even his mother pretended as if he didn't exist, as if she herself was a statue glued to the spot, immobile.

Just then quiet footsteps pattered across the sleek wooden floors of the entrance and into the room. Several men in black suits entered and sat on the empty tatami mats laid out. There were five of them. A hoard of bodyguards probably stood in the background no doubt. Upon their entrance the other family members stiffened even further. Considering that they were already stiff as it was, Akihito thought that it couldn't be done, but they somehow did it. It must be because the guests gave off a rather strange atmosphere, a deadly aura that Akihito couldn't fathom. It was especially strong from the man sitting in the center.

He was very tall, even sitting down his height was not diminished because of it. His suit was immaculate, and it framed his body nicely. Small strands of his jet black hair gently fell down his face and graced his bare forehead. He was very handsome, no speck or blemish could be found on his face, but it was his eyes that drew Akihito in. They were a strange golden color, that even sitting quite a distance away, Akihito saw were like molten lava. Those eyes looked hard, like a pair of finely chiseled garnets were inserted instead. They scared him. The man scared him.

Like a deer caught in headlights, he was frozen to the spot, just like everyone else was. And underneath that, was fear. Like the prey sensing the predator, Akihito instinctively wanted to flee.

But he couldn't.

The doors were barricaded by the wall of bodyguards. And if he ran, no doubt he would be caught.

Akihito didn't pay attention to what they were talking about. It was a negotiation of some kind. His family members were tense. The other side wasn't. He wasn't even sure why he was present in the middle of the meeting. Surely he and his mother had no part in any Yakuza dealings. Especially him. But it wasn't until he heard his name that he snapped out of it.

Those words came from the tall man on the other side. His eyes flicked over to Akihito's when he said it, as if calling him out, and then their eyes met.

Akihito felt strange to be under the scrutiny of that man. He looked cold and foreboding, and the stare he bore down on Akihito felt as if he was being dragged down under by the sea, as if a hand was holding his head down under water and he couldn't breathe. It made him squirm in his seat and start to pay attention to what they were discussing.

"I've already agreed to uphold my part of the deal, Takaba-san. Your family is alive. You're alive." Asami inclined his head towards the rest of the people sitting there, and then at Akihito's grandfather. He spoke in the tone suggesting a generosity that Akihito couldn't see. His voice purred like a large cat full of cream. "In addition, I also grant you a small portion of property for the rest of your family, seeing as how _this_ one," he referred to the room, "is indisposed."

His voice after that changed from a languid cat into a preying lion. It booked no refusal. "And now it's your turn to give me what I want."

…

The boy looked so confused. It was adorable. He was just sitting there in his blue kimono, trying to figure things out and put the picture together. He slightly hindered by his mother's figure. She sat in front of him, and despite her pale countenance, drained of color, he could tell she wanted nothing more than to protect her son, to save him from Asami.

But of course Asami knew that there was nothing she could do. He knew she sat there in complete silence, head bowed down, eyes casted on the floor, because she was perfectly aware of that fact. But the least she could do was to spare her dear boy from Asami's gaze, to save him what few minutes she could from Asami's scrutiny.

The desperate attempt of a mother.

And here was where he would see her fall apart. Fall even further than she already has. Asami and his men stood up and headed towards the middle of the room where he was to collect his prize, his collateral.

Takaba-san slowly stood up as well and slowly made his way over to where Akihito sat. "Stand up, my dear boy," he said softly.

Akihito was looking around the room frantically now. It seems the boy finally connected the dots. Good.

And then, instead of coming over, he ran. He ran to his mother, who broke from her silence and clutched him tightly, sobbing ferociously. "No! No! No!" Akihito screamed it over and over again, and Asami couldn't wait to hear it up close.

Several of the relatives came over to pry the boy off his mother but he wouldn't budge. Asami signaled for some of his men to come over. They grabbed a hold of the boy who was thrashing wildly, tears streaming down his face, screaming so hoarsely they were a list of pleas and profanities and gibberish. The boy's face looked positively strickened. Everyone else was in an uproar trying to calm the mother and hold her back, but Asami only concentrated on the little boy headed his way.


	3. The Dream Like Reality

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Akihito woke up with a jolt. He was breathing heavily; sweat rolling down his back and perspiration dotting his forehead.

It was a dream.

All a dream.

It had to be a dream.

Only, he didn't know where he was. Never before had he woken up and couldn't identify his surroundings. Even if he had passed out drinking on the sly with his friends and creating trouble, he would always find himself at one of their houses or in his own bed by morning. But this morning came, and with it flew a slew of questions, and the unshakable and undeniable fact that what had perspired was not a dream.

He wasn't at his grandfather's. The main house had burned down. He wasn't home anymore. And something tells him that he can't return home. Ever again.

And with this revelation came a headache and a nasty fuzzy taste in his mouth. Then he remembered. He had been drugged, knocked unconscious in the middle of the limo ride to god-who-knows where. He remembered screaming and hitting everything he could in sight, thrashing out and trying to open the car door that wouldn't budge. Child locks. He then grabbed the labels of that dangerous tall man in the suit and demanded to be let out.

That was when the tall man slapped him. Hard. It jerked his face to the side and sent his body flying off to the other side of the car, hitting his head on the window. He lost consciousness after that.

Akihito touched at the left side of his face. It was neatly bandaged up. Even without a mirror he could feel the swelling. It hurt to open his mouth. A painful tear fell down his cheek. That was the first time anyone had ever hit him. Of course he's gotten into scuffles with his friends and fought at school, but his parents had never, not once, laid hands on him. Even when he got into huge trouble, all they did was yell at him and took away his games. To have been slapped by someone for the first time, and a stranger to boot, made him feel a sort of humiliation he couldn't truly understand. It had made him snap out of the reality of the so called safe world he had been living in. It also screamed at him that the man was dangerous.

Akihito broke out of his reverie when he pushed the covers off and realized that he was naked. He draped the thick comforter once more over his body to cover himself and took in his new surroundings. The room was white and the walls were bare. There was a sort of pristineness that made it feel a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature. He made for the door, legs shaky at first but growing firmer as his hand curved over the door knob. He tried to give it a twist, but found it to be locked. Suddenly, the door opened inwards, and Akihito hastily stepped away, all the while his eyes were glued to the tall man that appeared.

The man looked down at him like a lord would a petty servant. The arrogant look didn't diminish as he audibly closed the door, and then locked it. In fact, the smirk that now graced his face indicated that he purposely made a show of locking the door to signify to Akihito that he couldn't escape.

The man walked toward Akihito, who had instinctively backed away straight towards the bed, only to trip on the hem of the much too large comforter on his way, gave a little eep sound, threw his hands in front of himself, and tumbled to the ground on top of the soft white heap underneath him.

The land had burst the already aching headache into an explosion that made Akihito's head swim. He groaned and did his best to stop the bile rising to his throat. He dry heaved several times, trying to breathe against the onslaught of nausea racking his brain.

However, unaware by Akihito, the heavy comforter unwrapped itself from his body, and slid off when the boy had landed, partially exposing Akihito's naked form in front of the stranger. Seeing the sight of the tangle of lithe limbs and a perky pink nipple that peeked out when Akihito turned on his back to catch his breath, Asami's eyes hardened as his lust made itself known.

All of a sudden Akihito and the comforter were swooped up and dumped on top of the bed. It knocked out all the air in his lungs and he started to see stars. He vaguely felt a dip in the mattress, and turned his head to stare straight into molten golden eyes.

The man's hand snaked out to grab a hold of Akihito's face, tightly squeezing his heavily injured jaw. It made Akihito cry out in pain, and his eyes watered when the iron grip tightened further rather than abate. His fingers scrambled to pry the man's hand off, but to no avail.

"Please!" Akihito rasped out between cries.

Was the man going kill him? Choke him to death? Oh, god, he didn't want to die this way.

Instead, the tall man leaned in closer to Akihito's face, his lips barely touching the shell of Akihito's ear, the space separating their skin less than a hair's width. But his death grip didn't lessen on Akihito's jaw.

"I'm sure you know the situation you're in, so behave Akihito." The man's voice was merely a whisper, but it roared louder than thunder to Akihito's ear. His headache swelled to the size of Mt. Fuji and his face scrunched up.

Seeing the pained look, the man pulled back and released his hold of Akihito's face to tread his fingers into the boy's golden locks, lightly massaging his temples. "Who knew you would go so far as to get a concussion from a slap on the cheek." the man murmured. "So fragile," he sighed. His eyes wouldn't go so far as looking guilty Akihito surmised, but there was a hint of pity there. Those rough hands then trailed down to tightly grab Akihito's arms and hold him in place. His head leaned in again, this time looking directly at Akihito's face. "That's why I told you to behave, Akihito." There was a warning on the final note.

"W…Who are you?" Akihito asked tentatively when he realized the man wasn't going to hit him again unless he disobeyed him and acted up.

Asami stared at the brat's pink tongue as it slipped out to wet his chapped lips. It swept over his bottom lip and left a film of saliva, glistening, and made Asami lean in even more. And like a turtle, the tongue slipped back into that moist cavern in fright. He really just wanted to delve his own tongue in there and make the boy cry out, but first things first.

"My name is Asami Ryuuichi, and as you know your grandfather and I have an agreement. Let me explain your predicament to you," he purred. "Your foolish grandfather tried to go to war with me and then ran away with his tail between his legs when he couldn't handle the heat. I spared him and his family despite the fact that he provoked me first. And in exchange, your darling grandfather offered me his youngest grandson."

….

Asami stared at the terror and disbelief written across the boy's features. "You're mine." He said, watching those words slowly sinking in as well as the realization that there was no escape. "There is nowhere to run to, and if you even so much as try, why, I'll reconsider the deal I made with the Takabas."

Akihito's eyes widened.

"In fact," Asami continued on while ignoring the look on the boy's face, "You are no longer a part of them. Your grandfather has taken you off the family registry, and you have been added to mine. From now on I own you, Asami Akihito."

At those final words, a sharp pair of teeth ghosted over the junction where Akihito's neck and shoulder met, and sunk into the soft tender flesh, hard enough to draw blood. Akihito cried out in pain, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to dislodge his companion. But all he could do was to toss his head to the side and endure the agony as the man bit deeper, tearing at the skin as if he was really planning to chew it off. Asami then lapped at the warm blood that gushed out from the gaping wound. He had bitten too deeply and a small dribble of blood flowed down the boy's chest. Asami sealed his lips over the bite and sucked on it, tasting the sweet metallic richness of the boy's blood. It forced more cries from Akihito's lips. The tears trailed down freely then.

Pulling back to gauge the boy's tear stained face, Asami felt a deep sense of satisfaction welling deep inside of him from the bloodlust and the sight of the total surrender he saw in those big, watery eyes. There was a silent plea to them. He wasn't sure for what, but it only further fueled his desire to take the boy.

He said, "I'm sure you understand that I can do anything I want with you, little one," all the while Asami peppered light kisses up and down and around the bite wound.

All the questions, all the fight and resistance, left the boy's body, and he stayed there limp and immobile while Asami continued his assault.


	4. Kisses and Whispers

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Hi everyone, I'm not really sure how to reply to the reviews you give me, so if someone could tell me how it would be a really great help. But thanks a lot for all the comments and suggestions! And I'm really sorry about the ordeal I've put Akihito in, but it will get better, I promise.

When Kirishima came to Asami's penthouse that morning, he wasn't sure how to approach the task he was given. And that was a first for him. He wasn't even sure how he felt. It was a mixture of emotions, and even that in itself would indicate to anyone the perplexity of the situation that he was in.

Sure, Asami-sama had had lovers. There were numerous of them, more than he could count – and as one such as himself who reveled in numbers – the statistics would have boggled anyone's mind.

But when he saw that Asami had stalled the termination of the Takaba clan for a mere boy, Kirishima couldn't deny that it was definitely a new turn in his boss' twisty and curved path. He even bought the boy home.

The bewilderment and surprise at that bit drove his eyebrows into his forehead was a given when Asami told him, but beyond that Kirishima wasn't sure what to make of the current situation.

Asami had already gone to work for the day, and that had made him miss out on seeing his ever stoic secretary bustling around the house, tidying up papers, fussing over the place, all prolonging until the final moment when he would have to go and wake the brat up.

It was past noon when he could stall no more and finally briskly knocked on the door before unlocking it and headed inside.

Apparently the boy was already awake but had stayed silent when Kirishima came in. There was a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face from the sudden intrusion, and eying the nasty, blood-crusted bite on the boy's neck, Kirishima saw that he had a good reason for the startled look. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and the down-trodden, completely anguished face, coupled with pain, made Kirishima's pity swell.

He sighed. He really didn't want to do this.

"Akihito-kun," he said. At the sound of his name, the boy flinched. "I have been informed by Asami-sama of your situation. You can freely roam around the penthouse, but are not allowed to leave. There are guards stationed outside, so I would deem escaping unwise. However, you are allowed to cook, or whatever it is that you may wish. I'm sure if you behave and follow orders, no problems will arise –"

Akihito didn't hear anything after that.

The word _behave_ came up again.

It scared him because his mind trailed back to last night…

He must've zoned out of it because the next thing he knew there was a doctor in a white lab coat by his side instead of that glasses guy, and something cool was being applied to the bite he got. The doctor began bandaging the wound on his neck and then redid the bandages on his face, which now swelled even more after being manhandled. After the doctor was finished assessing him, the glasses guy motioned for him to take a shower in the in-room bathroom. There were already clothes laid out for him.

It was a task just to walk to the bathroom, everything just hurt so much. His entire body felt sore. But the bath he indulged himself in after the shower soothed some of his ache.

Akihito slowly limped back to find a maid laying out several dishes out on a tray by the bedside table. While he took tepid sips of his miso soup, Kirishima made a bee dive for the door with the final note that if he needed anything to inform the maid. The doctor gave her a prescription and directions on treating Akihito's wounds before leaving himself.

Afterwards the nurse came up to him and introduced herself as Mai. She explained to him the workings of the penthouse and said how they were not to enter Asami-sama's office at the end of the hall.

Glancing at her, Akihito could tell that the nurse was rather young, maybe in her mid-twenties, only a couple of years older than Akihito's own nineteen years. For some reason, that made him wonder how old the Asami guy was. That line of thought was not a good place of venture, so Akihito immediately shut it down.

"Akihito-kun, I'm going to head to the pharmacy for your medicine, so feel free to watch TV or something while I'm gone," she called to him while collecting the dishes.

But right before she left, Akihito caught her glancing at the bandages on his face and the one peeking out from the shirt he wore. She saw that he had noticed, turned slightly pink, and then closed the door.

Akihito's face burned.

He buried himself once more under the covers, which had been changed along with the bedding, sheets, and pillows.

Of course it had.

Last night's ordeal came back again, always unbidden. And with no one around and nothing to distract him, he couldn't stop himself from reliving it.

…..

Asami's cruel hands slid themselves up and down his body, feeling every curve and molding his hands around Akihito's ass cheeks. His large fingers played at the ring of his opening, circling it, before a thick digit plunged in, coated with something cool and slimy.

Akihito whimpered at the intrusion, his voice muffled at the demanding mouth that was eating its way into his. He couldn't breathe as the man viciously kissed him. It made him unaware as another digit was added, and then another, enough for it to burn despite being in the back of his mind. Akihito felt himself being stretched, slowly, while Asami laid more marks on his neck before trailing his lips to suck on a rather stiff nipple.

The fingers withdrew, only for something else to be positioned right at his entrance. And then, because he could never get used to it, Akihito screamed as Asami slid his cock into him in one sure, long thrust.

It hurt. It hurt so badly. Even after Asami had fucked him every night for the two weeks that Akihito had lived in his penthouse, his body couldn't get used to the pain. It felt like he was splitting apart, bursting at the seams from feeling so full.

The presence of the man was dark and suffocating. Asami did things to him that Akihito couldn't understand. None of them boded well.

Akihito tried to breathe, to bear it until it was over, while Asami continued to relentlessly thrust in and out of him. His fingers twisted the sweat-covered sheets, his body writhing in pain and a pleasure he didn't want to feel or acknowledge, until Asami grabbed a hold of Akihito's hair and brought their lips together once again; a few deep thrusts later Akihito exploded, semen splattered on the sheets. Exhausted, he was only dimly aware that Asami had also emptied himself inside of him.

Sleep was the only reprieve he got from living in this hell.

…..

Asami lit a cigarette, and blew it out. The cloud of smoke filmed throughout the room, whirling in whispy waves in the air, and curled itself around the sheets while Asami languidly watched the boy's sleeping face.

His head was lolled to the side, and Asami could clearly see the marks, new and old, that he had given him. There was a faint yellow hue on Akihito's jaw where Asami had slapped him. The neck bite was healing nicely; the scabs have almost all fallen away, and what would be left afterwards would be some faint scars.

He felt something akin to guilt at the sight of Akihito's bandaged jaw in the first week after living with the boy, but those soon to be scars left no such impression on his mind. They were his mark after all.

Asami leaned down to brush the stray bangs over the boy's eyes, and laid a soft kiss on the healing bite mark. Squishing his cigarette butt into the ashtray on the bedside table, he delved his nose into the crook of Akihito's neck and deeply inhaled the boy's unique scent. It was mouthwatering, and Asami was a little wistful the kitten had fallen asleep too soon before he was permitted another round. The boy was so skinny; there wasn't enough stamina inside of him for Asami to enjoy the boy freely and to his content.

Asami hadn't meant to be rough, but a look at those hazel eyes, and the way he always wet his lips, made him want to take the boy. And when he cried out in that sweet voice, Asami had no other thought at that moment other than to be inside of him.

Akihito made him feel a kind of hunger that just thinking about it made his eyes feral, a sort of animalistic need that drove him nearly insane. There was almost no relief of any kind that can be found. When touching him, Asami felt his desire consuming him, making his actions frantic and wild.

And so he kisses the bruises that he had made during the middle of the night as a sign of apology. And the words he whispered inside of the boy's unhearing ear is Asami's way of making up for not being with his boy during the day.

It was not long after Asami speculated with himself that his arms came out to curl itself around the boy before he too fell asleep.


	5. Punishment

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

"Asami," Akihito tentatively began, "C…Can I see my mom?"

As soon as the words escaped his lips, he immediately regretted them.

It was two in the morning. Asami had just returned home. As the man softly pattered down the hall to the bedroom, deftly undoing his tie along the way, he was surprised to see his little pet awake. He didn't show it of course; instead, his face remained neutral, as if coming home to a waiting kitten was an everyday occurrence.

The boy was halfway between sitting and lying down on the bed, as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of waiting up and dozed off unconsciously, only to be awaken again when he heard Asami at the door.

It was terribly cute Asami had to admit.

His eyes were bleary, drooping so that barely a small slit of irises peeked through those long, silken lashes; he was rubbing on them with the back of his hand to clear his vision.

And although he should have know that Asami was going to take them off anyways, Akihito always made sure to wear pajamas to sleep. He adorned one now. They belonged to Asami. Although Asami wasn't sure why he bought any in the first place, probably only for propriety's sake, he was torn between feeling annoyed at the article of clothing obscuring the boy's slender figure, and feeling a surge of possessiveness at seeing Akihito wearing something that belonged to him. It was much too large, and hung on the boy's frame as if on the verge of falling right off. The collar slipped off a shoulder as the boy leaned over the bed to turn on the lamp, revealing a creamy expanse of skin and the faint shadow of a collarbone.

It almost made him forget the boy's question.

Almost.

"What brought this on?" Asami asked as he hung up his suit in the walk-in closet. He began unbuttoning his dress shirt next.

There was a mumble from the bed, too low to be heard by Asami in the adjoining room. "I'm dying," Akihito murmured to himself, waiting for Asami to return. His fingers were shaking, and he tightly clenched them together to try to stop himself from feeling more anxious than he already was. He tried to steel his resolve. It was taking a lot from him for even bringing up the topic. Before heading to bed, he had even taken a sip of some of the liquor in Asami's glass cabinet. He didn't know if he was allowed to have any, even if he was of age, but he figured that the situation called for something to calm his nerves. Unfortunately, it only burned his throat and added to his jitters. He drank but a small sip, and then put the bottle back.

Akihito had chalked up a lot of courage to ask that question. He wouldn't even consider talking to the man at all, preferring the least amount of contact as possible between them, but Akihito was desperate.

After a time of staying with Asami, Akihito greatly wanted to know what was happening with his family. During the day when Asami was gone, after Mai-san had left in the evening, when the penthouse was so quiet that even a pin drop could be heard behind a closed door, Akihito would curl up on the thick Persian carpet, eyes deeply staring outside the window at the vast skyline. The rest of the world and him; only held apart by a sliver of impenetrable, bullet-proof glass. It was at times like these when memories of the life he led before would surface. And could you believe it that was hardly a month ago? Such happy mundane times that Akihito cherished more than the world.

How he would give anything to have it back, especially when he was younger all that he had wanted was to get away. Life's irony had never found a worthier subject than him.

He missed his mother's smile, missed her warm embrace. He didn't want the last memory of his mother to be that of the day he was taken away; but the sounds of her earth shattering scream – coupled with his own, and the anguish on her face, burned inside of his mind something dreadful.

When he dreamt, their final moments together are always replayed in his mind. Sometimes more gruesome, sometimes more tragic, but never happier. And when he was awake he pinned to hear her speak, even if it was just to scold him.

Nevertheless, when he voiced his desire to Asami, a sense of apprehension seemed to fill his chest, and Akihito wondered whether he should have spoken about it after all. But it was already too late. He couldn't take those words back now.

Instead of coming back to the room, the shower turned on, and the cascade of water droplets created a soothing sound that washed over Akihito's mind; that is, until the water stopped too soon, and within a minute, Asami came out wearing a bathrobe and drying his hair with a towel.

He tossed the towel into the hamper, and then sat down on the bed. Small beads of water fell from Asami's hair onto the comforter, and the heady scent of Asami's shampoo wafted over Akihito's nostrils.

But he didn't dare move.

It wasn't until Asami had lit a cigarette, blowing out a lungful of large cloud smoke, did the man speak. "I had asked, what brought this on."

Akihito never thought pass the thought of asking Asami. "I – I want to see her," he said.

Asami cocked an eyebrow. "Is that all you have to say?"

…...

"W…What do you mean is that all?" the boy questioned, a look of uncertainty passed on his face. The nervousness from earlier receded, and what took its place was the small stirrings of anger that appeared in the boy's eyes. "I want to see her. I miss her! The last time I saw her was when I was being dragged away by you! Plus, my father – "

"You miss her. Get over it." Asami interjected him.

"Wha..?" Akihito said uncomprehendingly. The look of uncertainty exploded into an incredulous scowl. "How can you say that?!" he questioned, rising on his knees and looking straight into Asami's face.

"Easy. I just did." Asami continued to smoke his cigarette.

"I…This…I don't understand anymore. Why can't I see her?" he demanded.

Asami sighed. "You are prohibited from contacting them. It is part of the deal your family made when I agreed to exchange you for their lives. Just be grateful they're not dead," the man said coldly, twisting his cigarette butt into the ashtray by the bedside table.

"How do I know that?" Akihito countered harshly. Asami's heartless words kindled the anger burning inside his chest. "You could have killed them and I wouldn't know any better since you've locked me up in here!

A hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of the pajama shirt he wore, bringing him closer to Asami's deadly gaze. "How many times do I have to tell you to watch yourself, Akihito? Clearly I have to teach you a better lesson because it's just not sinking in, is it?"

Harsh nips rained down on Akihito's neck while both of his hands were yanked over his head and held in place by one of Asami's much stronger ones. The anger that continued to intensify made him wreathe and fight against Asami's hold over him. He screamed at the man to let him go, screamed himself hoarse when Asami's other hand traveled down to expose his own cock from the confines of his pants.

_No._

No more.

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand the constant humiliation he faced every night from being violated by that man. The devil that toyed with him to no end. Akihito fought back with all that he was, all that he possessed.

"Bastard!" he screamed, the tears gushing down his face as Asami ripped off his pajamas and a finger slipped into his hole. "It's all your fault! All your fault! Because of you I don't have a life anymore! Stop! I don't want this…I hate you! ...hate you… so much!"

And suddenly, the next thing he knew, there was a cracking sound and Akihito's face violently tore to the side, head slumping on the pillow.

The left side of his face felt numb for a moment, and slowly, a searing pain fell across his cheekbone, the skin burning like a fresh brand.

Asami's large hands curled over his neck and squeezed hard enough so that Akihito had to struggle for breath. His fingers tightened when Akihito resisted. There was an uncontrollable rage that thinly glinted behind those swirling orbs. The man's eyes were narrowed into slits as he dangerously growled, "I am going to make you regret that outburst of yours. A little bit of punishment is in order."

When Asami turned to grab something from the locked dresser on the other side of the bed, Akihito made a run for it, but only got so far as the hallway when Asami dragged him back into the room by his hair, unforgiving hands digging into his scalp. He was harshly shoved back onto the mattress, and his hands were secured to the headboard, tauntly tied in place by thick rope. Both his legs were also tied to either side of the bed.

As Akihito continued to struggle, and shout at him, Asami deftly slid between his thighs. He coated his fingers with lube, and then plunged them into the twitching hole. A cry tore itself from the boy's lips, his body trying to hold back its response to Asami's fingers. Suddenly they slid out from him, and a thick vibrator was unceremoniously shoved in.

Asami turned it on and watched as the boy toss his head back from side to side, rubbing his sweat-glistening thighs together to stop them from shaking. The boy was such a slut, moving his hips already and it hasn't even been a minute yet. After another minute of seeing the boy try to resist from ejaculating, he set the speed up a notch, and watched as a painful cry forced itself out from Akihito's ragged mouth, and cum splattered on the bed sheets.

Seeing the slightly relieved look on the boy's exhausted face, Asami came over to him and whispered in his ear, "Don't look like it's over yet, little one." He secured a gag over his mouth and slipped a cock ring over Akihito's spent penis.

He looked at the remote in his hand. "I wonder how much battery there is left," he wondered aloud. "But I guess you'll find out," he said, looking amused at Akihito's already-glazed-over eyes. The saliva that dribbled down the boy's chin was unbeknownst to him.

After turning the device on to its maximum capacity, Asami dressed in his signature three-piece suit, turned off the bedside lamp, and left.


	6. Asami Aflutter

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Note: Hi everyone thanks a lot for your comments and reviews! Woohoo sixth chapter! Please enjoy it as well. And tell me if the characters get too out of line, then I'll have to rein them in. Especially Asami, he's a toughie. I'm also going to try and add in different POV's, but for now Asami and Akihito will be taking the stage.

It wasn't until well into the evening that Asami checked on his pet. The room was drenched in the musty smell of sweat and sex. Nothing stirred except for a small buzzing sound that came from the bed.

_Ah, I guess those batteries were fresh._

He carefully walked over to the bed and looked down at the deathly still form of the boy: head lolled down to the side, a once more purple bruise swelling up more than half that slender face. Ribbons of blue covered his neck. The boy's skin was profusely perspiring, as if he was continuing to sweat even though the temperature in the room had reached a relative cool. The only indication that he was alive was his soft yet raspy breath and the occasional sniffle.

He had been sobbing.

Asami reached over for the remote on the bed table and turned off the vibrator. He couldn't calm the remorse that slowly wormed its way into his chest the longer he stared at the prone body on the bed. He couldn't look away, either.

The amount of semen on the bed and the boy's body – globs of it – made Asami imagine every tortured cry that wrought out of Akihito each time he tried to ejaculate.

He slid the vibrator out and took off the cock ring and mouth gag. As he undid the bindings on the boy's wrists, congealed blood stained the rope, and severe rope burns wrapped themselves around thin wrists. They sliced deep into the delicate skin, and small rivulets of crimson trailed down his arms. Although the edges were crusted with dried blood, the center of the welts looked freshly wet. Yellow pus was already starting to fester.

When Asami began to take off the bindings on Akihito's legs, the boy groaned in pain as the rope was peeled off the skin. He tried to curl up in a fetal position, but as soon as his wrists lightly brushed against the silk bed sheets, Akihito's eyes shot open wide and a blood-curling scream broke from his lips. He tried to yank his leg up to his chest, but that movement too caused another piercing shot of pain, chaffing the already-slashed skin against the rope.

By the time Asami had freed both legs, Akihito was hysterically crying. The tears were flowing down his face in fat drops. He became a mindless mess that could feel nothing but the agony in his body.

Asami was frantic, more so than any other time in his life; and perhaps, for the first time in his life.

He came to see his enemies writhing in pain, dying by the torture he himself or his men had inflicted at almost a daily basis. There were no conflicting emotions that arose. Instead, Asami faced the men and women he tormented with a sort of inhumane detachment; it was just business.

But now, the ghastly sight of the boy suffering on the bed brought forth the small trickle of guilt he had felt earlier and made it gush into a geyser.

He snapped out of the momentary lack of movement and rushed over to scoop the boy into his arms. Akihito thrashed even more wildly, shouting, "NO! No…Please! ...no…don't hurt me anymore…please," all between sobs.

But Asami just held him tight while the boy cried, his salty tears soaking Asami's pristine white shirt. Asami whispered calming nonsensical words by Akihito's ears, fingers gentle through his tousled hair. After a while, the cries diminished into sniffles, reduced to whimpers, and then finally became chest-heaving hiccups. His flinging limbs debilitated, and his entire body laid limp to rest against Asami's chest.

Akihito had finally fallen to sleep.

….

Three hours later and at the hospital, Asami once again was watching the boy's slumbering face.

His rope burns have been salved and wrapped. The strain of what he had endured throughout the night and most of the day wiped away from his face by the drugs feeding into his I.V. What Asami had thought to be a heavily bruised cheekbone had turned out to be broken. The color was gradually returning to the boy's blanched skin. Morphine dripping into his system. Antibiotics given. Suppositories applied. Fever waiting to subside.

But the boy's mind? Asami could only hope for the best.

...

A month had passed since Asami had stuffed him full with the vibrator, tied him up, and left him there for god knows how long. But he hadn't forgotten. Lord knows how many nights he had dreamt about being strangled to death by relentless hands and not being able to cry out. The nights when he woke up with sweat drenching the sheets and he couldn't go back to sleep.

Almost every night.

No longer could he sleep without some sort of light on. It reminded him of those long hours in the dark that he felt would never end. And no longer could he set a foot near the master room down the hall that housed Asami's bed.

He was discharged after three days in the hospital. When he was chauffeured home by Asami's driver and accompanied by a hoard of bodyguards, Akihito tiredly limped to the bedroom to calm the nausea swimming around his brain from the car ride. He made it as far as the entrance, but when the door swung open to Asami's bedroom, and Akihito caught glimpse of the massive bed in the center of the room, cold sweat ran down his neck and he bolted.

The guards caught him before he could make it five feet out of the penthouse. Two muscled men in black suits dragged him back into the room as he kicked and screamed.

When they deposited him on the bed, Akihito felt as if he had lost his mind. He furiously fought to get out of their hold and scampered to the adjourning bathroom, where he locked the door shut and curled himself in a corner of the bathtub.

The guards left and the sound of footsteps receded.

Afterwards, when he was awoken by Mai-san, she had informed him that the guards had already brought a new bed into one of the guest rooms, and that he could stay there for the time being. Asami had already approved of it.

And finally, no longer did he see Asami. Not ever since that incident.

Akihito always made sure to go to bed before midnight, just in case Asami came home early. But he never did. There was no indication that the man ever came back to the penthouse at all; nothing except the lingering smell of smoke in the air.

But Akihito never dared to lock his door.

He was afraid of the consequences.

And he never dared to think about asking for anything ever again.

…

Midway into the second month since he was in the hospital, Akihito saw him.

He had awoken in the middle of the night with the sudden urge to relieve his bladder. The fluorescent lights overhead blinded him, but they drew back the shadowy dream he was trying to outrun. As he made his way back from the bathroom, his grogginess disappearing and head cleared, he heard the sounds of a woman keening and moaning down the hall, something that he had missed earlier.

It made him freeze in his tracks.

Her screeching got louder and louder and Akihito's heart beat faster and faster as he slowly made his way to the room that he had vowed to never enter again. His silent footsteps made not so much as a squeak on the hardwood floor.

Akihito cursed his meddlesome curiosity; it wouldn't allow him to go back to bed, not that he could sleep again after this. As he came within an inch of the door, which was slightly ajar, his fingers tingled as if they were gently pricked with small pins. Dark flashes of memories echoed in the back of his skull. He was shivering slightly, the frothy cool of the wee hours of the morning added to the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins.

As he slid his eye between the crack in the wall and door, Akihito gasped.

He couldn't stop it. It came out of his mouth as if a croaking frog had jumped out.

Asami was on top of a woman, doing her from behind. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy as he viciously pounded inside of her, sheen of perspiration on his back. Her long, curly hair was a tangled mane that blazed around her face, a handful twisted in his fist. Even in the dark, every angle and line stood out to him clearer than day.

Akihito gasped just as her shriek reached its all-time high. She was oblivious to his presence, but Asami wasn't.

He had stiffened in the middle of a thrust at the intruding sound, and turn around towards the hallway to see Akihito standing there aghast, the door blown wide open.

That was when Akihito bolted.

He didn't look back, so fast and at such a speed that even the lax guards outside were taken by surprise. This time, he got much further than pass the door. It wasn't until he had slid down the elevators until the main lobby and passed the concierge did he get caught. And just several steps away were the glass doors that lead out of the building.

Akihito stayed un-protesting as he was lightly hauled over a shoulder and carried back. He hadn't exercised more than walking around the penthouse, and the former track and field runner was greatly out of shape. What he would hardly consider a run before had left him panting for breath, his chest heaving. His hands came up over his eyes, and soon the heaving turned into sobs.

Somewhere deep inside of him he felt something break. Any thought that he had had towards breaking free had ceased long ago when Asami taught him what it was like to cross the man. And now, he felt no resolve to do anything at all. He could see nothing left in his path, as if the path, too, had been cut short when Asami entered his life.

The sense of anguish Akihito felt at the thought of how his life was in the hands of a cruel man who had never hesitated to hurt him made his mind travel to a place he had never ventured before.

It was the first time he had ever sought such a vicious, selfish control before; the desperate attempts of a stricken person. But before he could contemplate it any further, he was set upright and strong, familiar arms enveloped him.

It was Asami.

There was a shuffle of feet, the slam of a door; the guards had left. And then he was being carried to one of the overstuffed couches in the living room. Once again Asami was wearing a bath robe, and once again his hair was wet, just like the night it had happened.

He was remembering the little details so vividly now.

The water drops that slid down his cheek from Asami's damp hair and the close proximity of the man allowed Akihito just the faintest whiff of the perfume that came off his skin. The woman's perfume.

For some reason the scent made Akihito mad; incredibly mad. The anger boiled from somewhere deep inside of him that he didn't even know it was there until it simmered just below the surface, a cold anger that left him impartial to whatever was happening.

He wondered why was it that the woman could enjoy such an act with Asami? Why when all that he had ever gotten out from it was pain and a pleasure that humiliated him? The satisfaction on her face wouldn't disappear from his mind.

Akihito closed his eyes to ward off the image, and finally became aware of the hand in his hair, softly sifting through the winded strands. The nimblest of kisses, ones that barely touched his skin but only hovered over the surface, ghosted their way down from his face to the exposed skin on his shoulder and then back up again. Asami's free arm curled protectively, if the word could even be used to describe anything of him, around Akihito's waist.

It also took a while for Akihito to realize that he was sitting on Asami's lap. It was the first time in a frenzied string of first-times involving Asami that night. That, and the soothing words the man whispered in his ear.

"Shhh, Akihito, shhh. Don't cry." A kiss on the temple. "Talk to me please, why aren't you answering me?"

The worried tone in his words didn't match Asami's character. And when Akihito glanced up at the older man, even Asami's face had somehow taken on a softer glow. The usually impassive, stoic expression broke into a set of crinkles on the forehead and faint lines of concern appeared at the corners of his mouth.

It was something one definitely didn't see every day. Akihito deeply stared into his face, unmoving and silent as Asami gently shook him, pressing for some sort of response.

"That woman," Akihito finally replied after a while, trailing his words at the end. It was hardly the only thing on his mind, far from it, but it was the one that stood in the forefront.

The situation they were in was so uncharacteristic of both of them, so unbelieving; it was even laughable if someone were to see it. But Akihito was somewhere beyond caring of that.

"That woman, what about her?" Asami questioned, trying to peer into Akihito's face as if it held the answer.

"Nothing, I don't know!" Akihito yelled, trying to yank off the hand holding his arm and pulling away from his hold. But Asami tightened his grasp and secured him in place. Akihito was frustrated. The man was so bipolar; one minute he sends him flying with the force of his hand, and then the next he could whisper such sappy lines, looking like he cared. Akihito was tired of being subjected to his whims.

"Stop fighting me, Akihito," he warned. "Just tell me, what's wrong?"

"Everything! Everything's wrong! Because of you! I'm ruined because of you!" Akihito screamed, beating his fists against the man's study chest. "Why am I here?! Why am I with you?! You already have her, so why am I still here?!

He was doing just fine deceiving himself about what was going on in his life, or lack thereof, fine until the scene he witnessed sent him over the edge.

Akihito came to stand on his knees, his eyes staring straight ahead at Asami's face. He didn't even know he was crying until his vision became blurry and snot was dripping down his nose.

Asami buried his face into the boy's stomach. The sound of his voice reverberated through Akihito's body. "I thought you didn't want to see me. Or am I wrong?"

"No, you're right. I don't want to see you. But other than Mai-san, I don't get see anyone. She only comes once every two days, and stays just long enough to bring me food and clean. I can't live that way! I'm dying! But you don't care," Akihito accused venomously. "You just lock me up and leave. You even forget that I exist, leaving me here to rot while you fuck her brains out!"

He didn't care if Asami was going to kill him. He had nothing to live for, anyways. It was all over now.

But instead of raising his hand as usual, Asami painfully groaned against Akihito's stomach. The man lifted his head up, and Akihito saw something that he never thought he'd see: guilt.

"Listen very carefully to what I say Akihito, because I'll only say this once," Asami began. "I'm sorry for hitting you. I'm sorry that I had hurt you those two months ago." There was sincerity in his eyes.

Akihito's lower lip trembled.

Asami continued on.

"It was not my intention to do what I did. But you provoked me, Akihito. My temper is not to be trifled with. However, I will promise to you that I will never lay a hand on you again."

"W…What about the woman?" Akihito chocked out. Asami had promised.

"That woman is of no consequence to me," Asami waved off. "She was just a substitute. Forget what you saw."

"A substitute?"

"Yes." Asami gathered him in his arms again, this time meeting no resistance. "I was adamant about still keeping you. But I didn't want to take you against your will again, kicking and screaming as you did. So I left you alone. I didn't intend to neglect you, but it regrettably came out as so. Nevertheless, I apologize. You may choose not to forgive me, but at least know that I am not just the monster you set me out to be." He took each of Akihito's arms in his hands, gathered them to his mouth, and laid kisses on the scars that wrapped around his wrists.

And instead of ceasing his cries like Asami had hoped, for some reason Akihito's tears fell more freely than ever before.


	7. Key Chain

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Note: Just as a tidbit, I wanted to share how I came across the idea of using Beauty and the Beast as a model for my fanfiction. I saw this movie at the library called _Beastly_. It was basically just a modern remake of the Disney's. I didn't watch it so I don't know if it's good or not, but the thought of casting Akihito and Asami in the roles kind of got me started on the idea because I think their characters really work with the plotline. And everything else just kind of went from there… so there you have it!

Their conversation last night had been the longest one that they had ever had before; heck, it was the longest time that they've been together in the same room, not counting sleep or when Asami fucked him into the mattress.

When he had sufficiently calmed down after crying against Asami's chest, he was ushered back into his room to sleep, even though dawn had already bloomed on the horizon. He didn't even complain when the older man slid in beside him, spooning him from behind. Asami's warm breath over the top of his head, and the weak rays that snaked their way in the room from the open curtained window lulled his puffy eyes to a close.

And afterwards, just like he had promised, Asami never tried to coerce him into doing anything. Akihito could tell that he had been trying to be considerate. He just didn't know what for, and why now. But whatever the reason, the man went so far as to establish dinners together.

So that's what they were doing right now, eating dinner.

Or more like Akihito nibbling on a croissant while sipping his hot chocolate, watching Asami eat his meal while Akihito tried to prolong his snack. What more could you expect when dinner started at midnight?

It had been a week since Asami suggested it, four days since it's been put into practice, so both of them were slightly cautious of every movement either one of them made, careful, and just downright awkward.

Today's dinner had been no different. The conversation was sparse, polite, such mundane passing topics. Although halfway through, Asami took out a small envelope from his suit jacket and slid it to the middle of the dining table.

Well, that was new.

Akihito wasn't sure whether or not to take it, sliding it in the middle was neutral territory after all. But the man indicated for him to, and so he crouched forward in his seat and grabbed it.

He opened it and dumped the contents of the envelope upside down in the palm of his hand. What fell out was a single key. Strange, Akihito thought. He was being cooped up in the house all day. Why on earth would Asami give him a key? Unless…

"You're not allowed to go outside without permission and there must be an assigned guard at all times," Asami said, taking a tepid sip of his tea. Akihito's eyes whipped up from staring at the shiny gold key in his hands to look at Asami's mirthful face, his eyes as big as saucers. "Only straight to and back from school – "

"School?" Akihito cut him off. "I get to go to school?! You'll really let me?!" The excitement and disbelief in his eyes could not be missed.

"Yes, school. Only school. No where else. Absolutely no straying off," Asami cautioned. This is a test of how much I can trust you. Will you obey me and follow my rules? Or will the outside world prove too much of a challenge? Will it lure you to defy me? And then I would really have to cage you up. Because the cage I'm talking about is much more literal than the cage you think you're living in now. And do not think for a second that I will not do it."

Akihito nodded furiously. The words were dancing faster and faster until they were racing around his head. He took it all in like a mad craze, piece by piece, one melodious sound right after the other. He swooned at all the words that came from Asami's mouth after he had been given the key because it could only mean one thing:

Freedom.

Even if it's just a little bit. Even if the restrictions sounded limitless. And even if the freedom was false. But just to breathe in the fresh air from outside and to be surrounded by people, Akihito could face all the rules in the world only to be able to feel as blessed as he did right at that moment.

"Before you run off, just remember, Akihito, that the key lets you have your independence, opens the door out of this apartment and into the outside world; but, it also binds you to me. Because whether you like it or not, back at my side is the only place you can return to."

Asami smiled. It looked positively evil.

"Now, let's talk about all the ways you can thank me…"

…..

For a second he wondered how he had been accepted into the prestigious university, but then considering that it was Asami who had gotten him in, the thought quickly dashed outside of his mind. Of course the man had paid it off, used his influence, threatened someone, or whatever.

Akihito recalled Asami's words after handing him the golden ticket: "You will have a guard with you at all times."

"What?! You can't expect a muscled big guy in a black suit to follow me everywhere at school! That's like painting a neon sign over my head! I thought I was supposed to keep it low? I would be singled out before the first day is even over like that," Akihito protested, the crumbs falling out from the side of his mouth.

"You're not listening to me, Akihito. Did I ever say that he was going to be a muscle man in a suit?"

"Then what do you mean?"

Asami dialed a number on his cell phone. "Come in," he instructed. The guy on the other end replied, and then the door opened.

A boy about Akihito's age, probably older by no more than five years at the maximum, came in. He was tall, dressed in casual street clothes, worn out jeans, a solid maroon form fitting t-shirt, and sneakers. He was rather attractive in that bad-boy sort of way. The dangerous streak was probably upped a notch since he appeared to be under Asami's employment. His hair was wild and brown, with streaks of auburn and red in them. He smiled, a dimple slightly forming on the left cheek, and then bowed low to Asami, awaiting orders.

"You can call him whatever you want," Asami stated, swirling the glass of brandy he had perched in his hand. Sometimes the man liked to have a drink after a meal.

"Wait, who is he?" Akihito asked, more perplexed now, almost rising from his seat at the dinner table.

"He'll be your _bodyguard_," Asami replied, then smirked. "I take it he's not what you pictured?"

"Well, yeah. I've only seen those stuffy goons of yours. Didn't know you had normal people under your thumb, too."

Asami ignored that last comment. The brat was getting the nerve to talk back he amused. Good. He's not broken.

"He's enrolled in the same classes as you are to keep an eye out on you, see if you're _behaving_."

Akihito hated that word.

"And one more thing – don't try to escape him. Because he will find you. And if he doesn't, I'll find you."

Those last words fled his ears as he got up on the morning of his first day of school. Akihito was as giddy as a girl. That was, until he walked out the door to be greeted by the sight of the personal bodyguard standing there, bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. It had placed a slight damper on his mood, but the boy was determined to not feel deterred.

"What do I call you?" Akihito had asked in the car ride on the way there. Apparently he was to be chauffeured to and from school. He didn't mind being driven there, since Akihito had never been a morning person, and the sluggish feeling from sleep had not yet left his limbs. Nevertheless, by the time he stepped out of the building, Akihito could not help but stare in fascination at all the ordinary things around him. Even though he was talking to the guy, his gaze was directed outside of the window, intent on absorbing everything in.

"You may call me whatever you want," he said, echoing Asami's words from earlier.

"Don't you have a name?" Akihito called back.

"My name changes on every occasion."

Akihito stared at him. He wasn't sure what to make of that information. Apparently the guy wasn't as normal as he looked. "Then, what does Asami call you?"

The guy stared at him. After a pause, as if surprised at the question but not showing it, his lips unsealed themselves. "He calls me Akira."

"Okay then, Akira-san."

"Just Akira," he laughed. "We're the same age Akihito."

Akihito's eyes widen. "Really?"

"You're nineteen, right?"

A hesitant nod.

"Then yes. Except, I'm three months younger. And please try to not act so stiff towards me. I don't bite," he smiled, showing a set of pearly whites.

…..

"So how was your first day of school?" Asami inquired, not feeling any bit like a parent asking their ten year old child.

"It was great," Akihito replied between mouthfuls. "I've already made friends with two guys from my chemistry class." Nor did Akihito feel like the ten year old. He had just taken a bath and was about to go to bed, but then Asami came home. So they continued with the little ritual that Asami had set up.

"But..." Akihito began hesitantly. "I didn't see Akira in any of my classes. And he didn't come with me on the way back. He left right after I got out of the car. I swear I didn't try to run or anything, "he frantically assured.

"That's fine," Asami said nonchalantly. "I ordered him to stay on the sidelines. And Akira?" An eyebrow lifted in question.

"Yeah, that what you call him, right? I asked and he told me." Akihito said, relieved that he wasn't in any sort of trouble.

It was the freest conversation both of them had ever had together. They were getting better at dealing with each other, but a relationship was hardly what Akihito would call it. Akihito was still cautious of him.

Despite the fact that the man said he would never hurt him again, Akihito just couldn't chalk it up to trust him like that, especially when he didn't see anything that would reassure Asami's words. Asami had hurt him, and although a few words had established a somewhat shaky understanding between them, it did not and could not erase the pain that he had caused. Plus, Akihito thought it was going to take much more than simply words and empty promises to earn his trust. He had pride, and it wouldn't allow him to discard the past…at least, not yet. Not now.

And as they say, only time will tell.


	8. Blow Me Away

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Note: I'm not really sure how the idea for this chapter popped into my head, but I'm pretty sure a little lemony goodness is overdue for everyone. Plus, I really need to practice writing some of the dirty stuff Akihito and Asami do. Because we all know how naughty they are…And just to clarify, Akihito had always been nineteen in the story, even if it sounded like he was a little boy in the beginning. The reason why is because Asami always viewed him as so, being all innocent and whatnot. Plus Akihito had always acted younger than his age. And finally I know that I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but once again, thanks a lot for reading. For those who commented, just know that they were very helpful and motivational to me.

* * *

Akihito promised.

So he was going to do it.

He just needed to prep himself for it.

A lot.

Oh my god, he didn't know if he could do it.

_Gulp._

But it was too late to back out now.

_Pop._

Akihito took in a deep breath, lungs inflated, and then exhaled in one long rush out his mouth.

_Ziiiiiiiiip._

He closed his eyes and reached a hand out hesitantly…

"I'm waiting, Akihito."

Akihito blinked and opened his eyes. Then he flushed.

The older man's tone was warm, amusement dancing in his eyes. There was no impatience, no lines around the edges. The hand in Akihito's hair was gentle and soothing, as if trying to nonverbally urge him on.

"You've only managed to unzip my pants in the ten minutes this has started," Asami commented, serenely sitting on the love seat with his hands relaxed at his sides. His tie was gone, and his usually pristine white dress shirt had several buttons undone, rumpled from the day's work. He looked a little worn out, but satisfied that the day was going to end well. If Akihito didn't know any better, he could have sworn that there was an indulgent look on that forever smug face of his. The man appeared to have no qualms about sitting there with his fly open.

Of course not, Akihito internally muttered to himself.

The guy had paid for it. Paid Akihito to wedge in between Asami's legs, to open up those expensive slacks of his. Paid by sending him to school. Talk about earning your keep. But when the man had asked for something in return, Akihito couldn't bring himself to say no. He had been so happy at the news. And it was the first time he had felt that way since he came to stay with Asami. So what if the man wanted something from him as a sign of gratitude? Since Asami had given him something, he considered that a little give and take was the only thing left to do. The word _yes_ was right at the tip of his tongue, just waiting to leap, so he automatically blurted it out when the man had asked for a blowjob.

Akihito had never regretted anything as much as he regretted those three letters.

He had never been given a blowjob or a hand job of any kind before. He had never really been into sex or masturbating, but like every teenage boy, had thought of it once in a while either because situations came up or an urge took over. But he had never pursued it beyond conjuring it in his mind. Nevertheless, when Asami came into his life, Akihito was hit by a whirlwind of conflicting desires. He felt sexual pleasure for the first time by someone else other than himself and by something else that was not his own hand. However, it was an unwelcomed pleasure. He didn't want it. At least, not that way.

He had only been kneeling for ten minutes, but his knees were starting to wobble a bit already. And he hadn't gotten anything done. His hand, which had been dangling in the air, dropped down to his lap, and he glared up at Asami.

"I've never done this before," he defended himself. "I have no idea what to do here, so cut me some slack."

"That's alright," the man chuckled, his good mood not deterred by Akihito's almost-sulking-like behavior. "I'll give you some help, tell you just the way I want it," came a sultry purr.

Akihito felt a little green.

"Reach inside and take it out," Asami instructed.

As if Akihito's right hand had a mind of its own, it reached out, and unlike wavering as he had before, he tentatively slid in Asami's black skin-tight boxer briefs. His mind hurled. It was hot in there, dry but Akihito's clammy skin made it feel damp.

It felt so different. It was always Asami who initiated it. Asami had always been the one to touch him. It had never occurred to Akihito's mind that the situation could have happened in the reverse. He never once thought about touching the older man. About having Asami's cock in his hand.

Akihito could tell that the man wasn't fully erected yet. The skin wasn't as taunt, and Asami's penis didn't curl upward on his stomach when it sprang free from the confines of the boxer briefs. Instead, it slightly coiled up, midway from being stiff as a rod. But it definitely felt like something was burning in his hands, and Akihito stared half in fascination and half in aghast at the sheer size of him.

_Had he really taken this in his ass?_

Not just once, but every night?

He really didn't want to look at it, but he couldn't look away.

And he was going to put this thing in his mouth?

"Now slide out your tongue." Asami's voice whispered over his mind. Akihito slid out his tongue.

"Good boy." A stroke on the nape of his neck. It made him jump. "Slide it over the head, slowly, as if you were tasting it. Imagine eating a lollipop."

Akihito swiped his tongue over the now fully erect head. He tasted the saltiness of it, the smooth roundness of the expanded foreskin. And he kept on tasting it. The tip of his tongue slid over Asami's pee hole, and zeroed in on it, as if he was going to delve inside. His lips automatically planted themselves on the base of the head, and popped it into his mouth, sucking. Hard.

There was a groan overhead. And then a slight jerk to Asami's hips. Akihito looked up into hooded eyes, glazed over by lust. The light expression that Asami had worn was now gone, replaced by a sudden primal stare that looked menacing for all the right reasons.

Akihito slid his mouth from Asami's cock to ask him if he was okay when another groan was heard. And then a growl. "Put your mouth back where it belongs."

…

Asami-sama had been in a frightfully bad mood that day. All of his employees were wary in his presence, high on their toes whenever he turned his gaze in their direction. No one knew what had caused it, but they didn't want to find out. The vein popping out of his temple as he fired three workers told the curious onlookers to keep their mouths shut.

Suoh was curious himself. But unlike the others, it looked like he was going to find out.

It was in the middle of the day, and his boss had already had a tumbler in hand while overlooking the files for a contract that they were settling later that night. The agitation on the boss' face didn't seem like it would bode too well for the client. Although the sun was already high in the sky, the shades were drawn and the heavy curtains were tightly closed from its rays. It made Asami's office appear dark and shadowy, ominous compared to the bright world outside. It perfectly matched the man's mood.

Kirishima had been running over the books, informing him about the latest weapons shipment that had been delayed. As he was talking, he slid his eyes from the paper in the file to look sideways at Suoh, catching his attention. The look said that Asami would be cracking very soon.

It happened when Asami closed the folder he had been reading and piled it on top of the completed stack. And then he sighed. It sounded more like a snarl, and made the secretary and the head of security share another look.

Asami completely drained the rest of his glass in one gulp, twirled the remaining ice in his hand several times, and then set it down in front of him. He took out a dunhill, and lit one. The smoke wafted into the room and made its home among the dark shadows, swirling like a reaching hand. "The fucking brat is getting difficult," he snarled out, a puff of cloud smoke trailing from his mouth as if he were a live dragon.

"Daring to pull that stunt yesterday. Running off in the middle…" Asami crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray before lighting up another.

"What would you like me to do?" Suoh asked. No doubt there was trouble in paradise.

A cloud of smoke was the only reply he got.

…

There were many reasons why Akihito knew that Asami was a cruel man. He didn't regard anyone as his equal. He didn't think of them as anything. And that was the way he treated Akihito when they used to have sex.

Every night the man would be rough and uncompromising, turning a blind ear to his cries of pain and pleas to stop. And the bruises that painted their way onto Akihito's skin would be dug there by the man's fingers to hold him in place. The blood, rust colored spots that made themselves known on the sheets in the morning, gradually got lighter and lighter as the days went by because Akihito's body got used to the abuse.

My god, he was reliving it all over again when Asami said those words.

And what he hated most when Asami raped him were the things the man said when he appeared half crazed. "You're mine," Asami would rage out when Akihito would try to squirm away. "Little slut is begging for it," when Akihito's cries of agony became mistaken for pleasure. "Look at that, right to the hilt. Greedy little thing you are. Always wanting it, wanting me to fuck you, squeezing so tight around my dick, wanting me to spill inside of that tight hole of yours. Well, here it comes." And the worst line: Nothing, nothing at all. He didn't spare a word for the marks he left on Akihito's body.

Akihito had always felt humiliated. Like he wasn't even human. Less than an animal.

And it was exactly the way he felt when Asami had ordered him to continue sucking on his dick. Like he was some cheap whore. No worse than that, like he had no other reason for living than to do what Asami had told him to.

And once more, he found himself slamming the door to his room, locking it tight. The look of bewilderment on Asami's face when he ran made it worse. The man had absolutely no idea what he had done wrong.


	9. Drink It Up

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Note: I don't know for how long this steady stream of updates of mine are going to last, but enjoy the it while it does because I think once I get kind of busy with school I'm not going to be able to put much time aside for updating it. Speaking of which, I know that I haven't been updating Diamond in the Rough for a while now, but that's because I kind of want to focus on one story for a while, so if this one goes on hiatus, that probably means I'm either busy or working on another story.

* * *

"Wow! Dude, your place is awesome! Is this really where you live?" exclaimed Kou, looking around the living room in wonder and awe.

Akihito turned pink and became painfully aware of the penthouse in its lavishness, for the first time really looking at it from a stranger's point of view. It was definitely high-end, and large enough to fit two houses inside. It took up the entire first floor of Asami's building after all. Mai-san had told him that the interior design had been done by some famous French artist, and that all the furniture was imported and handmade.

The only thing that marred the cool decorum was Akihito's stuff, carelessly littered around the place in nooks and crannies. His things were the only color among the whites, blacks, and silvers that dominated the penthouse.

Akihito toed off his shoes and absentmindedly discarded them across the doorway. His backpack was dumped on the kitchen island. He opened the fridge, which Mai-san had always stocked to the brim, and began ransacking its contents. He needed a drink.

Kou had been really energetic during the car ride, where he kept on fiddling with the interior of the limo, pressing on all the buttons to see what they would do, all the while Takato was trying to get him to pipe it down. The one time Kou had been in a limo was when his super wealthy relatives had had a wedding. He had convinced the driver to give him a ride around the city, pulled the top down, screamed his lungs out with a bottle of vodka in hand, and then splattered the windows of passing cars with vomit. Kou kept telling Akihito that he was living the life.

If only they knew.

Akihito took several deep gulps of beer and let out a satisfied sigh. A hand reached into the fridge and pulled out another cold can. It was Takato. "Hope you don't mind," he said, cracking the top.

Akihito smiled. "No problem." He took out a third beer for Kou, who was too busy opening all the doors in the penthouse, and then laid out a few dishes on the table before closing the fridge.

"Not just for the beer," Takato shook his head. "I meant for putting up with that guy." He jerked his chin toward Kou, who was ambling up to the kitchen to swipe the beer Akihito had left out.

"Alright, it's official now," Kou declared. "You, my friend," he jabbed Akihito in the shoulder, "have the best parents in the world!"

At those words, Akihito's face grew impassive. He twiddled with the can in his hands, waiting for the food in the microwave to heat up. "I'm…I'm adopted," he bit out.

His friends looked at him, Kou wide-eyed and mouth agape, Takato slowly lowering the can of beer from his mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't know…" Takato began, but Akihito cut him off.

"It's okay," he smiled, lips in a line. "It was a long time ago. Come on, the food's done. Let's eat!"

_It's only been five months. _

…..

"I wonder what kind of person adopted him."

"Who knows," Takato replied. "He didn't even tell us if it was a couple, a man, or a woman." Although, Takato speculated that it must've been a man. And only a man. There was a slight smell of cigarette and cologne that wafted over the entire place, and there weren't any women's clothing either when Kou had forced Akihito to give them a tour. There was not a picture in sight, which was rather strange; it made the penthouse seem that much colder.

"Either way, they must be loaded!"

"Yea," he agreed, reclining back in his seat. Akihito had chartered the limo to get them home. But five minutes into the drive he shook a drowsy Kou awake.

"Wha…What is it?" he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Shit, I left my stuff at Akihito's."

"Just call him."

"Alright, hold on. Driver! Can you send us back please? I left something behind."

Takato dialed Akihito's number, but there was only the messaging tone. He called several times, and each time proved the same result.

"Is he asleep already?"

"Maybe. He's not picking up."

"Well, it is possible," Kou yawned. "It is pretty late. Past midnight. Plus, he didn't go to school for a week. So maybe he's sick."

"Maybe, but he didn't look sick to me."

Kou shrugged and then dozed off.

….

"You've been ignoring me again, Akihito."

Akihito groaned, sandwiched between the couch and Asami's hard body pressing down on him to secure him in place. He tried to squirm as the man's hot breath traveled near his ear to whisper, and then dipped down to his neck. Lips hovered over the dribble of scars at the junction between his neck and shoulder, and then Asami bit hard. It drew blood.

Akihito swung his head back and forth to dislodge him, but the man's teeth were tightly hooked into his skin. Unknowingly, his arms reached out to grab a hold of Asami's suit jacket, fisting the fine material in his hand. He wrapped his arms around the man's torso in an attempt to hold him back, but it appeared more of an embrace, and when Asami slid his tongue in Akihito's mouth, it became one.

Asami had been drinking. Akihito could taste it in his mouth. It was strong enough that even his clothes reeked. Asami should have been dead drunk. But he didn't act that way. Oh, the wild, crazed side of him showed, like a snake striking out impossibly fast, but he acted more like a lion playing around with its favorite toy rather than hunting for a meal.

Asami growled from his attack on Akihito's lips; he could feel the man's chest vibrating from the rumble as it touched his own. And then, just as startling fast as he could blink, his body was flipped over and slammed into the couch, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could finish registering what had happen, Asami was already on top of him, laying his body over Akihito's. Somewhere between a purr and the earlier growl escaped his lips as he nuzzled the boy's neck. But instead of taking him like Akihito had feared he would, the man did nothing but pepper him with fervent kisses. The man lifted the shirt from his stomach and pressed hot kisses there. It made him gasp out loud and the panic slowly built. He didn't fear for his safety; rather, he was so bewildered by Asami's strange behavior that he didn't know what to do. When Asami's tongue swirled in his belly button, his hands automatically came up to tug on the man's hair. Yep, that sound was definitely a growl.

"You make such a disgusted face at me, yet have the audacity to act all cheerful in front of your friends. I saw them Akihito," Asami divulged. "Why do you think I came in right as soon as they left? And you have quite some nerve, bringing them over without permission. Was it because I punished you by prohibiting you from going to school?"

Akihito's face burned. It was right on the dot.

"Why did you run from me that night?" Asami asked, face serious now. "Tell me."

Akihito didn't want to admit it, but the uncharacteristic kindness that Asami was showing – something he only caught a glimpse of the night he discovered him with another woman in the bedroom – was something that he had yearned for. When he was about to head out the morning after leaving Asami hanging in the middle of the blowjob, the guards wouldn't let him leave the penthouse, saying that it was Asami's orders. When he was no longer allowed outside, when even Mai-san had been ordered to take leave, Akihito couldn't bear the loneliness that had swallowed him whole. Being caged after he had had a taste of what it was like to be around other people again was even worse than when he first came to stay with the man, because Akihito had finally believed that things were tolerable, if not better. And so the loneliness made him cling to the older man at the same time that he was trying to squirm away. He sought the warmth and the heat offered because he was terribly cold, and at a certain point, could no longer deny himself the closeness of another human being. Even if it was Asami.

…..

Asami had adopted a different tactic that night. And who knew that it would work so well, like a charm. He kept repeatedly asking the boy what was wrong in a low and soothing tone, making sure to amplify the concerned voice up a notch for measure. He whispered the question close to his ear, blowing a soft tendril of hot air on the nape of his neck, watching the desired outcome as the rim of Akihito's ears burned bright red, watching it spread to flush his entire face and then travel down his neck. Bathing the boy in the warmth of his arms, Asami watched as Akihito gradually succumbed to him.

They say that dogs are a man's best friend; that dogs have the unusual ability to make their owners feel at ease, to lower their guard and get them to open up. Well then, Asami was going to be a dog. But only for Akihito. And only tonight.

He had isolated the boy for a week as punishment for running, but also because he knew that it would make Akihito incredibly lonely. And as he showered him with attention and affection, he knew that Akihito could do nothing else but to relieve his pain by finding solace in his touches.

It was a different tactic than the ones he normally used, but Asami was determined to get what he wanted. And while he had learned that he could not force Akihito to give him what he want without breaking the boy, attention and a little bit of fondling had done wonders.

"You treated me like a whore," Akihito finally confessed. His eyes stung dangerously, watering.

Asami's lips halted on a sensitive patch of skin, eyebrows raised as golden orbs turned up to meet Akihito's.

He had not been expecting that reply.

"You…You always called me names when we did it. Your _little slut_. And you made me feel so worthless," Akihito hiccupped, his hands covering his eyes. But the boy couldn't stop the tears that leaked out through the corners. "And when you told me to put my mouth…" his chin quivered. "I – I just couldn't take it anymore!"

Asami wordlessly pulled him into a sitting position and began rocking him, as if soothing a child. The man never forgot that the boy was one. Despite the fact that he was an adult, Akihito was indeed a child, a very young and naïve one to boot, a fragile one that had to be handled with care or otherwise he would break. And the only time he forgot that fact was when his cock was buried in that delectable ass.

"Akihito," Asami murmured in an apologetic tone, nuzzling his neck. The boy swatted Asami's hand away as it came to brush against his cheek.

Good, now he was mad.

"Please don't be mad at me," he began, hoping to fan the flames. He got the boy to feel secure, safe there in his arms instead of the usual fidgeting face that he always saw. He made Akihito feel in control, coddled, and indulged. And he watched the fruits of his labor emerge in the form of an irate Akihito.

"How can you ask me that you controlling bastard?!" Akihito screamed. Right after the words escaped however, Akihito gasped and his hands came up to cover his mouth, his eyes widening in fear. He couldn't believe he had said that out loud.

Asami chuckled and batted his hands away, swooping in for a kiss. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had felt that way. If only you had told me, had talked about it instead of running away, then I wouldn't have punished you. You left me in a rather unwanted situation that time, Akihito." His lips sucked on a collarbone next, teeth lightly grazing over skin.

"St…Stop!" Akihito sputtered.

"Stop running away, Akihito," Asami nibbled on the bite scars again. "There is no reason for you to."

Akihito groaned under Asami's unrelenting attack. "I can't. I can't," he shook his head.

"Why?" Asami breathed.

"Because…because I don't want to lose myself. I can't, Asami!" he cried out.

"Why would you lose yourself?"

"Because it hurts to be with you."

Asami's lips did stopped. He raised himself up to catch the boy's face, and stared at him for a long time. He didn't get mad, not like Akihito had predicted. The older man's gaze searched all over Akihito's face, reading it, finding something there that Akihito didn't even know he was showing. There was confusion underneath all that anger. The boy was warring with himself. He didn't know what he wanted, so Asami was going to lead him to where he wanted the brat to head.

"Does it hurt right now?"

"Yes." Akihito's eyes clenched shut. He wanted that face to go away. It looked like it cared.

Warm fingers lifted up his chin, and he opened them again to gaze into golden orbs. They weren't menacing or ferocious. They were just there, curious, asking. "Why?"

"I…B..Because I…" Akihito sat there and simmered. Somehow his throat was lodged up, what came out were incomprehensible mumbles.

"Because I am a cruel man. Because I had taken you from your family by a mere inclination of mine," Asami let fall. "Right from the very beginning I was the bad guy in your head, and I still am. I've told you before, I'm not letting you go. So you might as well deal with it. But you refuse to accept the situation, even though you know it's not going to change. You won't let me in. And so I don't know what you want. And I hurt you because of it."

Asami started at Akihito as he spoke those words, soothing and gentle so as not to scare, but also strong and firm. He knew the boy couldn't fight back. Could have nothing to say against them.

Because they were true.

"I admit that I was wrong. You have reason to blame me, but things will not get better for you if you do not move on. All you have to do is talk to me, let me in, and then things will get better."

A few hours later, after Asami had led a quiet Akihito to sleep, the man too went to bed. When he woke up to a twinge in his temple, he knew that a headed was on the way. He remembered exactly what he did, exactly what he had said. And he really needed that alcohol to do it.


	10. Close My Eyes

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

I was planning on posting a new story that I had on my mind, but there were some problems trying to publish it, so I kind of got fed up and decided that I was just going to finish with this one before moving onto the next one.

* * *

Shit. It was getting colder in the mornings as winter started rolling in, and it usually made it hard for Akihito to toe outside of bed. But lately, he woke up feeling strangely bothered. It was like a flame was lit under the mattress while he slept. Akihito even turned the heater off in his room, but the sweat would be ever present, and it would sometimes get so hot that he would kick off the covers during the middle of the night. His temperature was right under that of a fever's, so he had no explanation for the strange state his body was in.

And unfortunate to say, the heat had zeroed in on a particular area. His stiff morning wood bordered the line between uncomfortable and downright painful. Contact of any kind, even a light brush against fabric, made him ache, threatening to shoot a load.

He slicked the damp hair back from his face and gingerly headed for a cold shower. It was becoming somewhat of a routine in the past week since it happened. It also made it hard to sleep soundly, and he was getting quite exhausted, each day escalating in discomfort.

He slumped in the seat opposite from Kou and Takato at lunch, head cradled in his arms on the table, and groaned. He'd been so tired that he couldn't hear a word of what the professors had been lecturing about all day.

"– hito…Akihito…AKI!"

Akihito's head shot up. He met the faces of his confused friends and sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I haven't been sleeping well lately," he confessed.

"Maybe you're stressed," Takato offered while texting his girlfriend.

Akihito shook his head. "I don't think so. Break starts next week, and I've been doing well on the exams."

Kou asked, "Or maybe you've been doing it too – Oooff!" He keeled over clutching his stomach. "What the _fuck_ was that for?!" Kou yelled at Takato who had suddenly punched him in the gut.

"Shut it, you moron! I told you not to talk about it," Takato berated. "What he means, Aki, is that maybe you're pushing yourself too hard."

Akihito thought about it. He really did. But nothing came to mind. His friends' suggestions hadn't really helped.

He was just about to head into the limo after classes were over for the day when he took in a whiff of cigarette smoke and instantly got hard. It was so sudden it made him groan and double over, curling himself inside of the car. Suddenly rough hands shook him, and Akihito turned up to see Akira staring down at him.

"Akihito! Are you alright? What happened?"

"Wah…nothing, nothing," he shook his head, trying to shy out of Akira's hold on his arms. But Akira wouldn't budge, analyzing him from head to toe, checking to see if he had gotten hurt. The stares he was receiving, although nothing more than checking for injuries, had made Akihito flush a bright red and his erection became even more pronounced. He tried to hide it as best as he could, but he was sure it was noticeable.

"Alright, scoot over then."

Akira slid in after him and instructed the driver to head off. "Why did you suddenly double over like that? Scared the hell out of me. You seem to be fine though, just sweating a bit. That dick of yours seems a little excited though. Did Asami-sama fill you up with toys or something?"

"WHAT?!" Akihito exclaimed, shocked. An image flashed inside of his mind and he sat rooted to the spot, aghast at the thought. "N..no..w..wh..what the hell? How c-can you just say some-something like that?!" he sputtered, then groaned. The erection was tightly straining against his pants now; he had never felt more humiliated.

"Yeah, well, you can take care of it when you get back." Suddenly, a smirked flashed its way across the bodyguard's face. "Or," Akira wiggled his eyebrows, "you can just make Asami-sama do it for you."

Akihito had realized on the first day of meeting Akira that he was different from the rest of Asami's men. He didn't follow the usual quota that those other suits did, and talked to him openly like an actual friend. Akihito felt more comfortable around him because of their closeness in age and also because of the guy's easy-going personality. He didn't even act like a bodyguard most of the time, for which Akihito was grateful. But his mind was absolutely filthy.

….

"Hey, idiot," Takato said, flicking Kou's forehead with his fingers.

"Ouch! Will you stop hitting me already?!" Kou hissed. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"

"Me? What is wrong with _you_?! I told you not to look suspicious in front of Akihito! And what do you do? _Maybe you did it too much?!_" Takato fumed.

"Well it's not like he knows that we know that he's…you know," Kou implied.

"Yeah, you're lucky he's totally oblivious."

Kou snorted. "It's not like you could look him in the eye either."

"It's just, look at him. You'd never have guessed. I still can't seem to get over it."

"Dude, me neither. Maybe we should just ask him."

"Hey, hey! Until Aki tells us himself, we agreed we were going to pretend that we never saw it! Nothing happened!"

"What never happened? That his _dad_ hadn't stuck his tongue down Aki's throat? That they weren't all over each other on the couch? Oh yeah, didn't see a thing."


	11. Return The Favor

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Since everyone's reviews were so flattering I decided to be generous today and post up another chapter.

Just to clear up any confusion as to why his friends thought Asami was his dad. Akihito did tell them that he's adopted, and technically he was. Takato had already speculated that it was a guy, so when they came back to get Takato's stuff, they saw Asami and Akihito gettin' hot n' heavy with each other through the gap in the window curtains and just assumed.

* * *

ONE WEEK EARLIER

"Akihito, are you asleep?" Asami called out from the doorway. He shrugged off his long coat and laid it on the back of the leather armchair. The briefcase was placed on the dining room table, along with a white cardboard box.

While he was undoing his tie, the boy came out of the bathroom, lugging his body into the kitchen sluggishly. He was rubbing his eyes and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a rather loud yawn that couldn't be suppressed. Asami thought it was adorable.

Akihito came up to him, and Asami hooked his hands under the boy's armpits, hauling him up and into his lap. His hair was still damp, and Asami could smell the shampoo and water on his skin. He licked a stray drop on Akihito's neck, watching him squirm a bit before nuzzling against Asami's shoulder.

"Did you fall asleep in the bath again?" Asami asked as he continued to breathe in the boy's tantalizing scent. Sleep was the only moment when Akihito laid down his guard around him, so he always made sure to take advantage of it. He loved to rouse the boy out of bed for a little bit of company together, because it was the only time Akihito acted so freely around him, so willing.

"Hmm…" was the lethargic reply.

Akihito's nose suddenly sniffed at the air, zeroing in on the white box on the table. He looked back at Asami's face, eyes lighting up in hope, and broke out into a smile when Asami nodded his consent. The boy opened it to reveal several small assortments of cream puffs, fruit tarts, and lemon bars. He squealed and hastily picked up a mini fruit tart, swallowing half of it in a large bite.

Asami kissed his cheek without resistance, something Akihito only let him indulge in when the boy was too preoccupied or asleep. "Don't forget to brush your teeth before going to bed," he said, stroking the soft skin at the nape of Akihito's neck.

"I'm not a kid!" the boy grumbled, but not at all deterred from consuming the desserts Asami had brought.

"Of course you're not," Asami replied, ever-aware of the soft body in his arms.

"Asami," the boy mumbled. "Thank you."

Asami smirked. "Well, how about you return the favor then?"

Akihito stopped eating.

He was wide awake now, and he immediately stilled in Asami's embrace.

"I won't hurt you."

Akihito looked doubtful. "Pl…please, Asami. I – I don't think I can do it," he said, trying to distance himself from the man.

But Asami wouldn't let him go, securing the boy even more tightly in his lap. He stared at him while Akihito pitifully struggled, then said, "I'm not asking for you to do it, silly boy. I'll do it."

He picked up the frazzled bundle in his arms and deposited him on the couch. Really, they have had some great memories on there. He went on his knees and looked right at the boy's sputtering face while slowly touching him, hands roaming over his body, centering in on kneading his stomach and hips, calming the boy until he just laid there, nervously anticipating Asami's ministrations. And then very slowly, Asami unbuttoned his pajama top from the bottom up, all the while licking and kissing his way up that smooth chest. While the boy was momentarily dazed, Asami deftly trailed the hand swirling circles on the boy's stomach lower and lower until it disappeared into his pants.

Akihito's breath hitched, and the rise and fall of his chest escalated.

Asami chuckled. Apparently the boy wasn't resisting. He was so weak to pleasure. But that's alright. This time, Asami will spoil him rotten. He slid Akihito's hardened cock out, and then proceeded to give it a little kiss, right on the tip. Akihito cried out, hips shaking, and Asami's lips came away coated with precum.

"I fed you, so now you feed me," Asami purred, looking wickedly at the dripping cock before him. "_Bon appetite_."


	12. Peek-A-Boo

Disclaimer: Viewfinder belongs to Yamane Ayano

Hey guys, I know that I haven't written anything for a while. So I hope this chapter, although a tad short, will get my writing mood into gear again.

Peek-A-Boo I See You

Akihito saw her just as class had ended. The professor had already dismissed everyone, and students were filing out, some milling about. That was when he saw her walk pass his seat. As if instinctively, reflexively, his feet moved of their own accord and he found himself catching up to her. His hand reached out and grabbed her arm. She yelped, and then turned around. His heart beat wildly when he saw her face.

He had not seen Mika for years.

Just thinking about those times past made him tremble slightly. Memories, strong tidal waves of them, resurfaced and surged up from the door that he had long tried to shackle down.

The look she had on her face made it worse. It was shock. Not the kind of shock you receive from not seeing someone for a long time. Not the kind of shock due to changes. No, it was the kind of shocked face you see when you realize that the person was befuddled, bewildered at your very presence. It was her way of saying _I can't believe I'd ever see you again_.

Once more, it felt as if he had died to her.

It was as if the person that he had once been before everything had happened had died. And the person she was staring at was a ghost.

He had never been close to Mika. They were distant cousins, and rarely saw each other, only during times when they had family gatherings at the main house. She was several years older, but Akihito remembered her from the other throng of unknown relatives because she was kind to him. And never in his wildest dreams would he ever imagine that he would see the look of guilt that flashed over her face like it did then.

They ditched their next class and headed for a nearby café across the street. After the surprise wore away, Akihito felt as if he was meeting a stranger, one whom he had known in a previous life but knew nothing of now. They both took sips of their drink, each waiting for the other one to speak first.

It was Mika who began. "I'm so sorry," she confessed. "I feel so ashamed to see you after what happened." Her faced flushed and she lowered her head, eyes starring a hole into her lap.

The images of the past relived themselves inside of his mind and Akihito closed his eyes to ward them off. He didn't want to remember. It was too painful. "It's not your fault." What else could he say?

"It's just that I thought that I'd never see you again." Her face shot up and she slid her hand tentatively across the small table to reach his fingers. "How are you doing?"

…..

Mika looked at him from across the table. He looked so different; no longer that bright little boy that she remembered all those years ago. He looked older. More refined. She took in the expensive watch he wore, the brands of his clothes, and the air of wealth around him. She knew who had given them to him: Asami Ryuuichi.

Although she wasn't there the day she heard he was taken away, she was nevertheless surprised at the ultimatum Asami had made. But it cleared her father's life, secured her family another day to live instead of being hunted down like animals, and for that she was grateful. She never bothered to think about what had happened to that boy.

Until now.

Asami had been good to him, it seemed. And that fact left her slightly bewildered. The boy looked well. He was even attending school, and not just any school. Mika barely made it in. Her parents had to bribe the head director, and that alone had cost a small fortune.

During their conversation, where only trivialities were brought up, none of them mentioned anything relating to Asami or the family. And then halfway into answering questions about her day, her phone rang. She looked at the caller I.D:

Shit, it was _him_ again.

…..

Asami was nibbling on his neck, and very slowly ghosted his way to a shoulder; sliding the shirt he wore to the side to expose more skin. Ever since the older man gave him a blow job – a wonderful fantastic orgasmic explosion that made him see white and pant and moan and bite his lips until they bled from the memory – Akihito was more willing with Asami's advances.

They weren't overly sexual, and nothing went beyond hot kisses and groping hands. But the day's events and seeing Mika had made him sit there like a dud while Asami harassed him. It was not until a large hand traveled underneath the shirt to twist at a nipple did Akihito gasp in surprise.

Asami pushed him back onto the couch, rolled his shirt up past his nipples, and started sucking on a coral nub.

Akihito squirmed and started thrashing about. His movements created a friction that Asami only happily encouraged: thighs going in between the boy's legs and spreading them, thrusting his hips against that thin pelvis to elicit a pair of hands in his hair, building a motion that made Akihito so hard he could barely move. Precum stained the front of his pants, his eyes went wide, mouth open and slack, back arching up against the couch, and then suddenly he slid back down languid as a cat, breath heavy.

Asami then continued his earlier ministrations on Akihito's neck, paying attention to a particular dip just above the collarbone.

"Did I distract you from your distractions?" he whispered in the boy's red-stained ear.


End file.
